


Comfort

by XplodingSeahorsePants



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Dubious Consent, F/M, Mother Issues, My First Fanfic, Non-Consensual Touching, Sexual Frustration, Sorry I'm Bad at Summaries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:08:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XplodingSeahorsePants/pseuds/XplodingSeahorsePants
Summary: Madison attempts to comfort Troy after Jeremiah's burial, but Troy has other things in mind including confessions and extremely close cuddles





	Comfort

When he storms off into the house after the funeral, without even a single glance thrown over his shoulder at her or anyone else, alarm bells immediately go off in Madison's head. Fortunately she knows which room is his, so with the image of Troy sobbing at his dead father's feet still haunting her mind, she ventures into the ranch house after the troubled young man.

Troy can't normally be trusted on his own but after losing his father, he’s even more liable to lose control and kill everyone he takes for a threat. After what he did to the Trimbols, a family he'd grown up with and whose oldest son had been his best friend, she knows she can't afford to take any chances with his violent impulses.

The house lets out agonizing creaks and groans at every step she takes, as if it's lamenting the loss of Jeremiah and protesting her presence at the same time, but she hurries upstairs without stopping. It had been relatively easy on her first exploration of the large ranch house to figure out which room was Troy's. A heap of well worn notebooks cluttering the desk were a dead giveaway, though she wasn't tempted to peruse them at the time, already suspecting the grisly nature of their contents.

He's slammed the bedroom door shut; she can barely hear muffled sobs coming from behind it. Hoping he hasn't locked himself away with his grief, she tries the doorknob, relief washing over her when it turns easily in her grip.

“Troy?”Madison calls out, pushing the door open, she spots him draped over the twin bed he's obviously had since his childhood, his tall lanky form almost absurdly too big for it.  
In two strides she's at his side, crawling onto the bed to wrap her arms around his heaving shoulders.  
“I’m not crying,”Troy growls, his voice cracking with the effort of speaking between sobs,”I swear I’m not.” A sharp twinge of guilt stabs Madison in the guts.  
“Of course you're not,”Madison whispers, gently smoothing his messy hair down with one hand.

“Big Otto’s immortal,” he wheezes through a stuffed up nose and breaks down yet again.

Rolling over to face her, the youngest Otto son throws an arm over her hugging her close to his chest. Strangely, she never took him for a cuddler until this moment. Her guilty twinge turns into a tormented ache as he buries his face in her plaid shirt. She did this to him, it's her fault alone she reminds herself silently over and over as she continues to stroke his unruly brown hair.

No one deserved to die more than Jeremiah, but she hadn't taken into account how much it would hurt his son. Even though the old man's ‘suicide’ brings a tentative peace to the two warring factions; getting rid of big Otto was the only way forward for the entire community but it’s still tearing Troy apart. What more can she do but comfort him while he mourns? If she can help him through this loss, maybe her conscience will stop torturing her.

A cold lump of trepidation lodged tight in her throat, Madison holds the 6 foot tall man letting him bawl his heart out. She watches the shadows in the room move over the wood floor wondering just how long he'll be ‘not crying’ in her embrace. He seems oddly small and vulnerable, despite his height and broad shoulders, now that he's turned into a broken kid falling apart in her arms.  
Nobody comes looking for either of them, they are alone in this awful world where death has become the only mercy there is.  
At long last his heaving sobs taper off enough for him to manage speaking again.

“How the hell do we go on without him?”Troy’s scratchy voice yanks at her heartstrings,”What if I can't handle leading?”

She smiles sadly, nestling her chin in the tangles of his thick hair and runs a finger affectionately over the crooked notch in his left ear, the weight of his arm pressing her into the bed.

”No, Troy, you’re the heir because you're the strongest. Big Otto left you in charge, he knew you're the only one who can handle it. Now take a deep breath.” She gives his back a reassuring rub as he pushes his face further into her now slightly damp shirt.

“Come on, you can pull yourself together, there’s work to be done. Your dad left big shoes to fill but he knew you’re the only one who can fill them,”Madison lies blatantly, fully aware that Jeremiah gave up long ago on his youngest son believing Troy to be completely psychotic. ”It’s important to let yourself grieve, but it’s also important to move on in the end. It's what Big Otto would have wanted.”

But Troy doesn’t pull himself together at her encouraging words. Instead puffy, bloodshot eyes peer up at her, a furtive unasked question hanging in their blue depths. Licking his lips, he stares, mesmerized for a moment he looms above her so close she can count the stubbly hairs lining his jaw. Suddenly his eyes snap back into focus and he grabs her by the wrist forcefully shoving his head directly between her breasts. An electric jolt shoots down her spine at the unmistakable feel of his lips on the bare skin peeking from her open shirt collar.

“Troy,” Madison hisses his name through clenched teeth, but his grip on her wrist only tightens.

“Shit…Madison,”he grunts, sliding his hips atop hers, his strong, lanky frame pinning her down,”You got no idea what you do to me.” Wishing that old familiar warmth she hasn’t felt in weeks weren't growing disturbingly demanding at the feel of his arousal, she holds still, breathless, allowing him to slide the front of her shirt down.

Sometimes she forgets how dangerous he is, but not once has she forgotten the vulnerability and confusion he hides behind his tough guy Otto son facade. Nor has she ever stopped wondering at the way she often catches him looking at her like she's the only sun lighting up this burnt world.  
Shaky fingers explore her bra as he swallows nervously drinking in the sight of her held helpless beneath him, contrasting oddly with the worshipful awe shining in his bright blue eyes. A red flush crawls over his cheekbones.

”How much longer you think I can take this?”he asks, the caress of his strong fingers setting her skin on fire .

“Troy, you buried your father today,”she whispers, trying to come to her senses she grabs for her shirt collar to yank it back up, but her hand slips, punching uselessly into her own shoulder instead.”Isn't that enough for one day?”

His lips twist in a conniving little smirk as he raises an eyebrow at her.  
”It’s never enough, Madison.”

Diving in again he nuzzles at her neck brushing his lips up her jawline, the warmth of his breath traveling over her tender skin leaving her limp and yearning. Inhaling deeply, he drinks in her scent, as if she doesn’t smell like the reality of water conservation mixed with infrequent sponge baths and dust.  
She can feel him hard as a rock where he’s pressed between her legs. The smell of him, salt mixed with sweat, gunpowder and blood is overwhelming, everything within her cries out for the intimacy she’s constantly denied herself ever since she came to the ranch. Troy may not be holding a knife to her throat like the first time she felt him grow aroused against her, but he doesn’t seem to have any intention of stopping this time.

“Troy, what do you want?”she asks, though it’s a dumb question; she knows perfectly well what he wants.  
The young man is still for a moment, gazing hungrily at her, breath coming in shallow bursts through his half open mouth.

“Madison,”his hoarse whisper mere inches above her furiously pounding heart,”I'd do anything for you. Hell, I've already done everything I can for you. I love you. All I want is you...I need you..”

She tries to stifle a moan but at the sudden wet heat of his mouth engulfing her nipple, it escapes despite her best efforts. That deep down tugging makes her long to kick off her jeans and wrap her legs around him. Taboo thoughts are quickly destroying her resolve not to let him get carried away. It’s impossible not to dwell on how long it’s been since she was last intimate with anyone.

In the back of her mind she recalls warning Alicia that love can creep up on you but only now does she realize the prophetic impact of that statement in her own life too. The feel of him moving against her breast, his stubble tickling her skin, makes her peek down to find his gaze fixed on her, blue eyes intense with a feverish shine.

“I’m too old for you, Troy,”she states, feebly trying to reason with him.

“Madison,” he snaps, hoisting himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye,”it’s our ranch now, ours together, I’m the heir and you’re mine. I picked you. You’ve always been mine. And I’m 24, I can make my own goddamn decision who’s too old.”

She stops squirming, it’s only succeeding in building up her sexual frustration even worse, her guts already a swirling wreck of lust. Instead she strokes his cheek, more than a little surprised at the softness of his facial hair as her fingers drift to his temple to play with a stray lock of his hair.

They are outsiders together, both pushed to desperation and violence at young ages, both abandoned by the world that forced them to such ends in the first place. The girl who protected her mother despite the horror with which her mom looked at her every day since. The boy whose own mother died in his care after she spent his entire life hating him. Perhaps it's not surprising they’ve both grown into murderers living in the land of the dead. The world has nothing but hatred and suspicion to throw their way, so why can't they have each other?

“I keep you safe,” he insists, his breath hot on her ear,”I take care of you. I saved Alicia for you, hell, I even saved Nick. I did it all in service to you. My service is to you and to this place.”

Fired up by his own declarations,Troy grinds himself between her legs with an angry urgency that leaves her gasping. Her own need is becoming far too strong to stifle anymore, the way he's touching her shouldn't be sending this tantalizing heat prickling through her every nerve ending. She should be able to knee him in the crotch and leave him howling in pain but for some reason she can’t bring herself to do it. What the hell is wrong with her?

“I’m not yours, Troy, you’re just confused and grieving.”  
He slides an arm round her encircling her waist in a tight embrace, a storm of emotions twisting his face. Despite her misgivings, she's yielding to him, her legs wrapping his to pull him even closer against her.

“I can’t keep grieving, crying is bullshit,”he declares, his jaw set in a tight line of determination while his eyes burn holes straight through her.

“You won’t do anything without my consent,”Madison orders, meeting his stare with an equally strong resolve and determination. His body stiffens at her words, his left hand coming to a sudden halt on her breast.

Troy stares down at her, panting through half parted lips for a minute, before loudly clearing his throat to reply with a dutiful,”Yes, ma’am.”

“Ok,” she murmurs, pushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead,”then kiss me.”

The sudden force of his lips on hers slams her head back into the pillows. In spite of the fierce hunger in his kiss, the desperate quickness of his tongue darting past her teeth to explore her mouth there’s a reverence to it as well, like he’s showing someone he worships the extent of his adoration. It’s not what she expected, she's definitely not accustomed to being anyone's goddess, but it feels like exactly what they both need.

Her fingers tangle in his messy hair, his hot, wet kisses cover her mouth, neck and breasts as if it’s impossible for him to stop tasting her. Slipping her arms free from her undone shirt his hands are everywhere caressing her nakedness, her skin tingling with the unbearable hypersensitivity that comes from not being touched for months on end.

She came to comfort this hurting young man. And now even as her conscience screams out for her to be professional, she’s a guidance counselor for god’s sakes, she’s surrendering completely to her beautiful, wild boy, his lithe body melding with hers until she's not sure where she ends and he begins.  
Yet no matter what he may believe, she knows the utter truth of the matter is that Troy Otto belongs to her and it will never be the other way around.


End file.
